


A New and Terrifying Adventure

by Twixen93



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Baking, F/M, Gen, Grandparent's House, Musical Instruments, Mycroft's Umbrella, Nap Time, Newborn Babies, Parentlock, Sherlock being fatherly, Sherlolly - Freeform, Sneaking Out
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-02-07 10:02:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 7,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1894890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twixen93/pseuds/Twixen93
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From birth to present, this is the story of Scarlet Grace Holmes and Rowan Nicholas Holmes as they grow and develop. These are all the laughs, tears, and adventures involved by being the product of Sherlock Holmes and Molly Hooper/Holmes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Scarlet Grace Holmes and Rowan Nicholas Holmes

**Author's Note:**

> I've been consumed by the idea of Sherlock and Molly having children. Consider this my introduction of the Sherlolly kids and who I believe they would be.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introduction of Sherlolly babies Scarlet Grace Holmes and Rowan Nicholas Holmes.

 

* * *

 

 

* * *

 

Scarlet Grace Holmes born June 4 at 4:32 in the morning. The labour was long as expected because it was their first child. 

 

Sherlock stood by Molly’s side the whole time, holding her hand, giving her soft encouragement, and kissing the whitened knuckles of her hand as contractions assaulted her body. They were both scared and for the first time he was the one that needed to be strong, to be the calm and level headed one while the contraction pain robbed her of her ability to speak properly. He wiped her tears with each new pain and was the vision of supportive father-to-be even though his nerves ate at his resolve. 

 

With a final push and an anguished cry, Scarlet Grace Holmes was brought into the world. She protested against the sudden cold and cried through the chaos as she was cleaned and weighed. Her little cries struck Sherlock, surrounding him, and his desire to hold her, protect her, multiplied ten fold. Only minutes into her existence in this new world and she already had Sherlock wrapped around her tiny fingers. 

 

The nurse brought her to them after a quick assessment and Molly opened her arms, exhausted but anxious to meet her daughter. Molly wrapped her arms around Scarlet and her wails immediately died down to contented coos as the familiar rhythm of her mother’s heartbeat encircled her. 

 

Sherlock sat on the edge of the bed facing his wife and his child. His daughter. A beautiful, perfect life that he helped create and was now responsible for, to love, to teach, and protect. It overwhelmed him but looking between the two he knew it was worth it. 

 

Molly met his eyes with her own and he knew her thoughts mirrored his own. She smiled as he threaded his fingers through her hair and pulled her gently in for a chaste kiss. Their foreheads remained touching and he delicately stroked the smooth hair on Scarlet’s head before taking one of her tiny fists to place kisses on each of her fingers. Scarlet yawned and nuzzled closer to Molly’s chest. 

 

She would have the world and Sherlock would willingly give it to her. 

 

* * *

 

Rowan Nicholas Holmes born December 9 at 11:11 in the evening. A year and half after his sister was born. He was impatient and the labour was smoother and much quicker than Scarlet’s birth. 

 

It was the early hours of the morning and the hospital room was quiet as Molly slept. The exhaustion of labour finally taking over and drawing her into the depths of sleep. 

 

Rowan stirred in his hospital cot and Sherlock stood from the recliner beside Molly to hold him. Molly needed her sleep and he didn’t want to wake her. John and Mary were currently looking after Scarlet and they would be arriving in a few hours to see the new addition to the Holmes family. Rest was needed if she wanted to remain awake for a day of visitors and an excited one and half year old crawling over her mother. 

 

Sherlock lifted Rowan slowly and gently out of the cot before setting him comfortably in the crook of his arm. He swayed lazily and gracefully to a wordless tune in his mind as he placed soft kisses to the dark baby hair of Rowan’s head. Rowan’s eyes, light blue and unfocused, stared up into his father’s face. Only a few hours old and already exploring and getting to know his new world. 

 

He marvelled at the life he cradled in his arms. This tiny fragile being who possessed so much potential, who opened his heart to the possibility for unimaginable love and affection he never thought possible. Rowan cooed and sighed contentedly with the gentle movements and a tiny yawn forced its way out of his mouth. 

 

“ Sleep little one. You have a big day ahead of you,” Sherlock whispered as he tucked the baby blanket more tightly around Rowan’s sleeping form.  

 

If Molly had awoken to her husband humming a sweet and deep lullaby to their sleeping son, she never brought it up. 

 

* * *

 


	2. A Father's Worry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock has a mini crisis when a case strikes home and he realizes he can't protect his children from everything.

* * *

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

Rowan slept soundly in Molly's arms as she lounged in the living room while Scarlet occupied herself with a tower of blocks she would no doubt push over later. It was a surprisingly quiet day in 221B and Molly was enjoying the odd calm.

 

Sherlock had been reluctantly called to assist on a case that Scotland Yard was having trouble solving. Any other day he would have blatantly refused  but it had involved children and since the birth of his own, emotional ties to cases like this drew him in like a magnet. Molly understood his absolute need to help and even though he was hesitant she urged him to take the case. 

 

The familiar sound of the door at the bottom of the stairs opening and closing drew Scarlet's attention momentarily away from her blocks. The stairs creaked as the visitor made their way up to the flat and she turned to Molly with a thoughtful look on her face. 

 

" Daddy?" Scarlet looked at Molly with wide and unsure eyes as if needing confirmation that is wasn't some scary stranger. 

 

Molly smiled down at her clever daughter and nodded her confirmation. Scarlet seemed content with the answer and proceeded to slowly push her block tower over, block by block. Her little giggle as she destroyed her own work elicited a signature eye roll from Molly. 

 

The steps slowed as they reached the landing and Sherlock came into view. He didn't enter the flat. He just stood there with a vacant look in his eyes and Molly knew immediately something was wrong. His eyes were red and his face was paler than usual. He had been crying. Molly sat up straighter  with the intent to go to him and urge him to sit before he collapsed but the sleeping child in her arms hindered her rushed movements. Sherlock fell ungracefully to his knees. 

 

" Sherlock!" Molly's frantic voice cut through his vacant expression and she tried to stand without waking Rowan. 

 

" Molly sit. I'm fine. I just need a moment," he waved her to remaining sitting and then set his hands on his thighs as he took deep breaths.

 

Her eyes swept over his body in search for any injury but she found nothing of major cause from her quick assessment. Molly exhaled and obeyed because he obviously needed the space but even still it did nothing to dull her concern. 

 

Scarlet watched with confused wonder and after a moment of consideration stood and walked to her father. When she was within arms reach he pulled her to him and engulfed her in a tight encasing hug. For once, she didn't struggle against his warm and protective hold. 

 

“ Daddy ok?” she finally whispered after he loosened his hold on her. 

 

Her brown eyes, wide and worried, and so similar to Molly’s bore into his own. He was constantly in a state of awe at her curiosity and need to know everything. Children in general were innocent, curious, and honest in everything they did. Scarlet was no exception. She gave him a half smile and he reciprocated with his own as the colour finally returned to his face. 

 

“ Yes darling. I am now,” he kissed her forehead and released her. His smile fell and his eyes followed her while she sauntered back to her pile of blocks haphazardly spread across the floor. 

 

The case was solved but not in a happy ending kind of way. What if this case had involved his own children? It wasn’t hard to picture and he broke down on the cab ride home the moment Lestrade let him leave. 

 

“ Come back to me Sherlock,” Molly spoke softly drawing him out of whatever thoughts were currently plaguing his mind. 

 

“ The world is a merciless and uncaring place Molly. How am I going to protect our children from the horrors of it?” He spoke with a sense of dread as he looked up at Molly, the fear radiating from his whole being.

 

The light in her head flashed brightly with realization as the real reason for his desperate behaviour finally registered. The internal struggle of his responsibilities as a father and protector were finally overwhelming him. It was clear the case unlocked all the deep seeded fears he tried to keep locked away. She needed to fix this. 

 

Molly stood carefully from her spot on the couch and Sherlock watched her movements with confusion as she kneeled down in front of him. She held Rowan out to him and he opened his arms absentmindedly as Molly settled their son in his arms. Rowan stirred but remained asleep in the familiar protective and warm comfort of his father’s embrace. 

 

Sherlock looked down at his sleeping son who was oblivious and unaffected by the crisis raging inside his father. His child who was still new to the world and wouldn’t have to experience any hardships for years. Innocent, naive, and lucky. 

 

“ You can’t protect them forever,” Molly gave him a small smile as his head shot up with the reality of her statement, “ they are going to experience so much and they will get hurt and cry and break down but they’re lucky. They have you.”

 

She reached forward and cupped his cheek before leaning in and pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, anchoring him as he closed his eyes to her soft touch. He would do whatever he could to shield his children from the pains of the world and when they did break and shatter from their personal burdens, he would be there to help piece them back together. 

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I take credit solely for the creation of Scarlet Grace Holmes and Rowan Nicholas Holmes. 
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THESE CHARACTERS.
> 
> All the credit goes to Sir ACD, Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss, and everyone else involved in these characters wonderful creation.


	3. Nap Time Resolve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nap time was always an adventure at 221B.

* * *

 

 

 

* * *

 

Nap time at 221B was always an adventure. Sherlock firmly believed that play time was much more substantial to his children’s development rather than wasting time on sleep. And he was essentially right but when both Scarlet and Rowan were fussy 221B became a mad house.

 

It was that time of day.

 

Molly had put Rowan down on her and Sherlock’s bed surrounded by pillows so he wouldn’t fall. It took only moments until his eyes fluttered closed as he drifted to sleep. His bumblebee stuffed animal was tucked tightly beside him and Molly resisted the impulse to snap a million pictures of how cute he looked. Rowan actually enjoyed nap time and Molly was constantly rejoicing in the small part of her sons being that enabled him to fall asleep with ease.

 

Scarlet on the other hand would fight, fuss, cry, and resist naps with every ounce of energy that she possessed even as her eyes fluttered closed from exhaustion. She was like Sherlock in that sense, stubborn and defiant in her own little way.

 

It had been minutes since Molly took Scarlet up to the nursery for a nap and she still hadn't come back down yet. Sherlock tapped his fingers on the arms of his chair with impatience. There was no need to worry but curiosity at what was happening up stairs was slowly dissolving his self control to remain. Giving in, he stood from his chair and walked up the stairs to the nursery.

 

He reached the upper landing and found Molly with her forehead against the door, eyes closed, and hand on the door knob. Scarlet was crying on the other side and he could see Molly was about to relent, forget their plan, forgo nap time, and live with the consequence of a cranky child for the remainder of the day.

 

They had a lengthy discussion about it and they both agreed on self soothing methods for their children but it was still difficult listening to Scarlet's little cries. Even he was having trouble letting her cry it out but routine and consistency were important.

 

“ Let me try Molly,” Sherlock put his hand on Molly's back making his presence known. She turned into him, leaning into his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her.

 

“ Tell me again why we decided self soothing was a good idea,” she whispered.

 

“ Because it helps them to develop good sleeping habits and will all be worth it in the end,” he finished the rehearsed comment and ended with a kiss on the top of her head, “ go check on Rowan. I'll watch Scarlet.”

 

He smiled at the relief blatantly expressed in her chocolate brown eyes. She unwrapped herself from his embrace and headed down the stairs to check on her youngest child. Sherlock watched her go before slowly opening the nursery door.

 

Scarlet stood in her cot and bounced with anticipation as he stepped into the room. He took one look at her tear stained cheeks and grabby hands and knew he didn't have the restraint to just pat her on the back for reassurance and walk back out.

 

“ Daddy, no sleep!” Scarlet sniffled as she rubbed her eyes.

 

He chuckled at her defiance. Her approach to things she hated was much like his own, loud and obvious. The self control he prided himself on was swiftly destroyed by Scarlet's puppy dog eyes and wobbling lower lip. Molly would frown at him if she walked in because at that exact moment he had reached down to pick his daughter up from the confines of her cot.

 

“ Let's not tell your mother about this small lapse in parental control alright,” he whispered quietly while grabbing her yellow and red ladybug blanket from her cot.

 

“ I keep secret,” Scarlet giggled and covered her mouth with both of her tiny hands as Sherlock wrapped the blanket around her.

 

“ Good girl,” Sherlock kissed her on the forehead and settled her against his shoulder.

 

The familiar weight of his daughter in his arms sparked spontaneous inspiration and he started to sway, back and forth, to the unwritten tune in his head. He hummed the new lullaby as he rubbed circles into Scarlet's back. The deep vibrations of his voice lulling her into a sense of peace. She grabbed a tiny fistful of his dress shirt and nuzzled into his shoulder. Dad's songs always made her sleepy.

 

“ I not tired daddy,” Scarlet whined as a yawn escaped her lips.

 

“ I know darling,” he smiled into her hair taking in the fresh scent of baby powder and vanilla. She was only minutes away from drifting off into a pleasant sleep.

 

Minutes passed as he continued his calming ministrations. Soon, her breathing slowed and the hand fisted in his shirt loosened. Small even breaths were felt against his neck and he slowly manoeuvred Scarlet away from his body and into her cot. She stirred momentarily but remained asleep.

 

He turned to walk out of the nursery but froze when he saw Molly's smiling form in the doorway. She stepped out of the way as he quietly closed the door and turned to her.

 

“ I knew you couldn't do it,” Molly smirked up at her husband.

 

Sherlock rolled his eyes and instead of giving a dignified response pulled Molly close and kissed the smirk off her face.

 

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THESE CHARACTERS. 
> 
> (With the exception of Scarlet Grace Holmes and Rowan Nicholas Holmes. I take credit only for them.)
> 
> The rest of the credit goes to Sir ACD, Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss, and everyone else involved in these characters wonderful creation.


	4. Flower Garden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The kids enjoy a day in the flower garden at their grandparents.

* * *

 

 

* * *

 

The children loved going to their grandparents house. It was in the country, wide open spaces, fresh air, and most important, the flower garden. They could spend hours playing outside and most times they did as long as they had supervision. Often times Sherlock would volunteer to watch them and it didn't have anything to do with his parents constantly bringing up embarrassing memories of him as a child. At least that's what he told himself.

 

Sherlock sat on one of the benches nearby watching fondly as Scarlet and Rowan ran amongst the thriving garden. An act reminiscent of when he was a child. Scarlet led Rowan, hand in hand, to the colourful blossoms and helped him delicately pick those he enthusiastically pointed at. They were curious souls and it made Sherlock's heart soar with pride at how they loved to explore, learn, and understand what they did not know.

 

Scarlet spoke to Rowan with a bright smile, an exact imitation of her mother's, as she handed him a flower. She was only 6 years old and already so protective of her younger brother. He looked up to her even if she wasn't fully aware. The two really were best friends and the point was blatantly obvious as Rowan hugged her in his way of thanks, his tiny arms wrapping around her equally tiny waist. Sherlock couldn't stop the smile spreading across his face if he tried.

 

A colourful butterfly flew between the two and landed in Rowan's hair. He froze and Sherlock watched with bated breath as a wide spectrum of indecisive emotion passed over his son's face. Confusion, curiosity, and a hint of fear.

 

“ Don't be scared,” Scarlet smiled at him, her watchful features easing his nervousness.

 

She tentatively reached out to touch the creature and it flew to her extended fingers. Rowan gasped and looked to Scarlet with wide eyes. She slowly lowered her hand so they could both inspect the colourful insect. They whispered amongst themselves, no doubt about the pretty colours, until a slight breeze ruffled the wings sending the butterfly away. Scarlet burst into giggles at the look of loss on Rowan's face but he soon joined in her laughter.

 

Their angelic laughter surrounded Sherlock, filling him with the reassuring knowledge that they were content. His children were happy and loved and thrived even though most days he had no idea what he was doing. There was a deep fear of his inadequacy as a father, something he was constantly burying, but their laughter was enough to quell those poisonous thoughts.

 

* * *

 


	5. Umbrella

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scarlet plays a game with Uncle Mycroft.

* * *

 

 

* * *

 

The white cushioned arm chair was far too big for Scarlet's small 9 year old frame yet she looked like that was precisely where she was meant to be. It had become a familiar spot she often found herself sitting in.

 

Mycroft sat on the edge of the dark wood desk in his home office, arms folded across his puffed out chest, and eyes locked on the mischievous girl sitting before him. She was unfazed by his overbearing manner and there was a small part of him that took pride in her boldness. She was a Holmes after all.

 

“ Scarlet Grace,” he voiced her name, firm and with authority.

 

“ Yes Uncle Mycroft?” she looked up at him with innocence, the epitome of angelic.

 

“ You have taken something that does not belong to you.”

 

“ I don't know what you could possibly be referring to,” she struggled to remain straight faced as she tried to maintain the obvious lie.

 

“ Lying, Scarlet. My umbrella. What have you done with it?” Mycroft offered a long suffering sigh as he tilted his head to the side and raised his immaculate eyebrows at her lack of words.

 

It was a stand off of wills as their eyes remain locked. He would certainly not cave to what was essentially his brother in female child form. Scarlet wiggled in her seat under his gaze but did not relent any information. Mycroft rested his hands on the desk and tapped a random rhythm onto the surface in waiting. Finally the quiet broke as her resolve crumbled and she dazzled him with her sweetest smile.

 

“ I can't believe you don't know where it is Uncle Mycroft,” she shrugged her shoulders and swung her feet back forth. Her feet couldn't even reach the ground.

 

He narrowed his eyes at her small taunt. She was starting to mimic Sherlock's mannerisms and yet they somehow seemed much more endearing coming from her. She looked up at him expectantly as if there was only one proper way to figure out where his umbrella was truly hidden.

 

“ 20 questions, I presume,” he rolled his eyes as she nodded her head enthusiastically.

 

He pushed lightly off the desk to stand before her. 20 Questions had become Scarlet's new favourite game ever since he had made an off hand remark that he could always guess before the twentieth question. Truth be told, he welcomed the minor inconvenience and distraction Scarlet's little antics provided during tedious days.

 

“ Is it currently at this residence?”

 

She nodded without hesitation. He had learned to ask that question first due to the many times she had managed to smuggle various items out of his home. There was no need to waste questions on something that wasn't anywhere in this immediate vicinity.

 

“ Upstairs?”

 

Another nod. She had been wandering upstairs moments before he noticed his umbrella missing and called her down to his office.

 

“ The loo?” he circled behind her as he awaited her answer. There were only a limited number of rooms on the upper level that she had access to.

 

“ Nuh uh,” she shook her head in what could only be a minor proud moment at briefly stumping her uncle.

 

“ The guest room?”

 

Her hair bounced as she shook her head again and a bright smile spread across her face.

 

“ My bedroom?” he paused momentarily in front of her to gauge her reaction.

 

There was a slight hesitation as she offered a slower nod. He raised his eyebrows at this and clasped his hands behind his back before continuing his questions. There was still plenty left before he reached the limited 20. Not that he would actually reach that.

 

* * * * *

 

Molly and Rowan were still out shopping for Scarlet's birthday present and wouldn't be able to pick her up before supper. Sherlock had finished the case sooner than planned and offered to retrieve her on his way home from Scotland Yard. She didn't need to remain in Mycroft's presence for longer than necessary.

 

He stepped into the living room, took one look at his brother, and smirked. Mycroft was sitting in his armchair by the warm fire and rather possessively clutching his umbrella. It wasn't hard to deduce what had taken place.

 

“ How many questions did it take this time?” Sherlock inquired as Mycroft looked up from his book at the intrusion.

 

“ Eleven,” he said with a slight turn up of his lips. He looked fondly over at Scarlet who was asleep, curled up on one of the oversized couches by the fire, and a book open beside her.

 

Sherlock crouched down beside her sleeping form and ran a hand over her head. The action was sweet and such a fatherly thing to do. Scarlet leaned into his touch but did not wake.

 

“ You're slipping,” Sherlock mocked as he lifted the sleeping Scarlet into his arms. She stirred briefly before wrapping her arms around his neck and nuzzling into his shoulder. It was almost to the point where she was getting too big to be carried but today was not the day he would stop.

 

“ I was simply making it seem like she had fooled me,” Mycroft quietly defended, careful not to wake his sleeping niece.

 

He walked them to the door where one of his drivers was already waiting outside to transport them home. For once, Sherlock didn't dispute the service Mycroft was providing.

 

“ Where did she hide it?” Sherlock asked before stepping over the threshold and out the door.

 

The chauffeur opened the black sedan door with a nod as Sherlock walked gracefully down the front steps of Mycroft's townhouse. A hand was protectively set against Scarlet's back while the other held her to him, keeping her close and warm while she slept.

 

“ Do you really not know brother?” Mycroft retorted, lifting his chin slightly in the air.

 

“ I was humouring you. Of course I know where she hid it,” Sherlock replied with obvious spite.

 

“ Oh please, do enlighten me,” Mycroft folded his arms across his chest and leaned against his open door with a ridiculous smile plastered on his face.

 

“ Your civilian clothes really should see the light of day more often,” Sherlock dramatically paused as he threw the comment over his shoulder.

 

The corners of Mycroft's lips turned up in a small smile. Scarlet had thrown caution to the wind and directly disobeyed the rule to not enter his bedroom. Not only did she rebel against an unwavering rule but carded through the dark recesses of his closet where his rarely used civilian clothes hung. It was there that he found his umbrella tucked between jean trousers and an abysmal coloured knit jumper his mum had purchased for him.

 

The silence was enough of a confirmation that words needn't have been said. They offered pleasant goodbyes and Sherlock manoeuvred expertly into the sedan without waking Scarlet. Sherlock's smile, so full of pride at his daughters actions, was the last thing Mycroft saw as the sedan drove down the road to Baker Street, transporting those he held willingly near to his not so icy heart.  

 

* * *

 


	6. Drunk Interrogation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly is working a night shift at the morgue. The kids are left home with Sherlock who leaves them alone for a case. They decide to sneak out to a party they were explicitly forbidden to attend. They arrive home to an unexpected surprise.

* * *

 

 

 

* * *

 

Rowan stumbled and crashed into Scarlet as they reached the front step to Baker Street. He had his arm around his sister's shoulder for support because of his slightly intoxicated state. It was late. Later than they had planned but their mother had taken a night shift at the morgue and wouldn’t be back until the morning. Their father had been left to supervise them but had fortunately been drawn away from the flat by a case. He claimed it was a 7.5 which gave them both ample time to slip out of the flat, crash the party they had both been explicitly forbidden to attend, and return home with time to spare. 

 

They had planned to leave the party at midnight but due to Rowan’s inability to hold his alcohol they had been delayed by a fight he inadvertently initiated. He had gotten out of it scott free but she on the other hand was sporting a brilliantly coloured split lip. It would be difficult to hide that one from her extremely perceptive parents but she was confident in her ever increasing ability to lie when required. Not that it would actually do any good against her consulting detective father. One could hope though. 

 

The windows above were darkened and Scarlet breathed a sigh of relief. It was just as they had left it, dark and empty. No parental units on site. 

 

“ I’m gonna be sick,” Rowan groaned as Scarlet manoeuvred them both up the stairs to the flat. 

 

“ Shut up Rowan. You’re going to wake Mrs. Hudson,” Scarlet whispered angrily as Rowan tripped on the last step, almost bringing them both down. 

 

Scarlet would laugh at their current situation later but supporting her brother’s full weight made it hard to find the hilarity in this particular circumstance. She just had to make it to the loo and deposit Rowan on the floor in front of the toilet then her required duty as responsible older sister would be complete. Not that she would leave him there but at least she wouldn’t have to be cleaning vomit off the hardwood floor. 

 

“ You’re amazing! The best sister eeever!” Rowan slurred before burping in her face and wiping his mouth on her shoulder. Scarlet gagged and resisted the urge to vomit from the burst of alcohol breath her generous brother decided to share. 

 

“ You owe me so massively for this,” she scowled as they stepped into the darkened 221B.

 

Her eyes hadn’t even had time to adjust to the dimmed flat when she heard the familiar click of the lamp turning on. She snapped her eyes shut from the sudden brightness and her stomach dropped as her mind caught up to what the light turning on meant. Dad was home. Scarlet’s eyes fluttered opened as they adjusted to the light.

 

Sherlock was sitting in his chair, legs crossed, and his violin resting against his shoulder as he absentmindedly plucked the strings. This was not going to bode well for them. 

 

“ The light, it buurns!” Rowan whined and Scarlet elbowed him in the side eliciting a satisfying grunt from her brother. He was not helping the already futile situation. 

 

“ Sit,” Sherlock pointedly stared at the two kitchen chairs currently placed in front of him. 

 

Scarlet swallowed hard before depositing her brother in one and slowly lowering herself onto the other. The silence was thick and surrounded them like a blanket, suffocating and too hot. Sherlock’s face was passive, the anger hidden well as he surveyed his two offspring. They shrunk under his gaze. It was the look. The one usually meant for clients that concealed their lies. It was terrifying to be on the receiving end. An occasion that happened rarely ever. 

 

“ We-“ Scarlet started after squirming through the silence long enough. 

  

The sentence died in her throat as Sherlock plucked a single string on his violin. The sound fading into the silence like her hopes of somehow getting away with this. 

 

She risked a sideways glance at Rowan, who even in his inebriated state shared an identical look of concern and part horror. 

 

“ Dad we thought-“ 

 

Another plucked violin string sounded as Sherlock raised a challenging eyebrow. No talking apparently. Scarlet bit the inside of her lip, careful to avoid the sore split part, while she waited for her father to address their disobedience. His electric aquamarine eyes switched between the two, giving each of them a long hard look, no doubt already figuring out what happened, before setting his violin down. He clasped his hands in his lap and turned his focus on Scarlet. She met his gaze, swallowed, and prepared for the inevitable deduction waiting on the tip of her father’s tongue. 

 

“ Explain,” he accentuated the word with unmitigated displeasure. 

 

Scarlet blinked in confusion and then realized he was allowing her to retell the account in her own words. No sudden deductions, just listening ears. She took a breath and recounted the events of the night. 

 

Sherlock remained silent through her retelling and even still as the last words left her mouth. She hated this part. The waiting. The amount of time he took to process their actions of the night was torturous. He was probably doing it on purpose so that their minds could come up with the worst possible punishment imaginable. 

 

As Sherlock was about to speak and relieve her of the torment, Rowan stood unsteadily from his chair and made a beeline for the bathroom. No doubt to empty the contents of his stomach. Sherlock watched Rowan retreat and let escape a long suffering sigh as retching sounds commenced form the other side of the closed bathroom door. Scarlet clenched her eyes shut, pinched the bridge of her nose, and shook her head. He was so dead. They were both dead. 

 

“ While your brother is effectively paying for his poor choices of the night, do you require medical attention for any of your injuries?” Sherlock asked, eyeing her split lip with genuine concern. 

 

“ No, I’m fine. I think Rowan is in more of a worse state than I am,” she smiled weakly as the bathroom door opened, revealing Rowan’s dishevelled form. 

 

Sherlock nodded once, accepting her words, and letting the matter rest. At least for the moment. 

 

“ I feel much better now,” Rowan commented with a drunken smile as he returned to the living room and reclaimed his seat. The smell of throw up and alcohol surrounding him like a cloud. 

 

“ A suitable punishment will be decided after your mother and I have had an opportunity to discuss your actions tonight. Understood?” Sherlock frowned.

 

“ Understood,” they acknowledged with a nod. 

 

“ Bed,” was all he said, effectively ending their interrogation for the night. They didn’t need to be told twice as both stood from their seats, eager to sleep the nights events away. Rowan followed after Scarlet with an unsteady gait.

 

“ Rowan,” Sherlock called gently after him, that simple tone making him freeze where he stood in the doorway. Rowan turned to face his father who still sat in his chair, his violin back in his hands. 

 

“ Shower, now,” he ordered gently, meeting his son’s wide eyes. 

 

“ Right,” Rowan exhaled, pointing to the bathroom as if it was a revelation. 

 

Scarlet continued up the stair to their shared bedroom, all the while concealing a smirk, before collapsing on her bed. She was not looking forward to the morning. 

* * *

 


	7. Baking Bribe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scarlet uses her baking abilities to try and convince her parents to lift her grounded punishment.

* * *

 

 

* * *

 

Scarlet often went into moods where all she wanted to do was bake. She had, after all, learned from the best.

 

Mrs. Hudson taught her well. Growing up, Scarlet would often bound down the stairs to visit her when the savoury smell of her baking drifted to the flat above. Countless times of assisting allowed Scarlet to retain useful techniques, baking terminology, and most important, her parents favourite recipes.  

 

Mince pies and cherry tarts lined the counter tops, infusing the flat with a warmth and mouth watering comfort that only the smell of freshly baked goods could bring. Scarlet stood for a moment, taking in the delicious sight of her hard work, and smiled. Surely her efforts would sway her parents position on her punishment.

 

The punishment was strict but understandably so. Two weeks grounding for sneaking out to that party with Rowan. No leaving the flat except for school, no electronics, and cell phone locked to only allow emergency calls. Uncle Mycroft had also been enlisted to ensure their compliance with the rules. Sometimes it was more of a nuisance to have an Uncle that worked for the British government. 

 

The front door opened and closed, followed shortly by two sets of footsteps traversing up the stairs. Molly and Sherlock strode into the flat and paused briefly, their eyes falling on their favourite treats presented on the counter, waiting for them. 

 

" What’s this?" Sherlock inquired as he selected a mince pie from the assortment. 

 

" Evidence of my absolute weakness in resisting the inextinguishable impulse to bake," Scarlet answered. 

 

Sherlock rolled his eyes and Molly snorted at her child’s overdramatic words and passive nature. This was not a weakness. This was one of her strengths and conveniently put to use halfway through her two week grounding. 

 

" Compliments to the chef," Molly raised a tart to Scarlet before taking a generous bite.

 

Sherlock hummed in approval with Molly’s words as he wiped stray crumbs from his lips, the mince pie already gone within a few bites. 

 

Scarlet was practically vibrating with anxiousness as she waited for her parents to finish their treats. Molly swallowed the last of the tart and cocked an eyebrow at Sherlock, who smiled knowingly, an unspoken conversation resulting between them. Scarlet watched with barely concealed hopefulness. 

 

" We both appreciate your baking prowess Scarlet, but you’re still grounded," Molly spoke firmly. 

 

" It was worth a try," Scarlet sighed. 

 

" We do love it when you try," Sherlock pressed a kiss to her forehead as she deflated with the revelation. 

 

Her parents each grabbed another treat and disappeared into the living room, leaving her alone with the failed attempt at buttering them up. 

 

" One more week," Scarlet groaned as she gathered the dirtied baking dishes to wash. 

 

* * *

 


	8. Using the Music

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Music was a very big part of the Holmes household.

* * *

  

 

* * *

 

 

Music became an important part of the Holmes household.

 

The children had grown up listening to their father play his violin for them. Sherlock’s adept ability to perform provided them comfort when they were younger and inspired them to take up learning an instrument of their own. 

 

Scarlet had her guitar. Hours of strumming and musical creation had been spent practicing the wooden instrument. It was her release. Any pent up anger or sadness or frustration was released with each strum, with each touch of her fingers to the strings, and with each note vibrating from the hollow body.

 

Rowan favoured the piano, His mind, so similar yet distinct from Sherlock’s, stilled when his careful and gentle touch drew resounding notes from the piano. Emotions often overwhelmed him and the motions of his fingers sweeping over the black and white keys allowed him to drift into peace with each melody. 

 

Weekends at Baker Street bred many of the most inspiring moments the Holmes family shared together. Sheer boredom from the absence of school and cases would drive either the children or Sherlock to find entertainment in their respective instruments. The result was a beautiful combination of impromptu duets and trios. Sometimes even quartets. 

 

Molly was not proficient with any instruments, except for the medical ones she used in the morgue. What she did have, however, was a voice. She found it hard not to hum along when the flat was enveloped in the melodic joining of instruments. 

 

At those times, the problems that plagued them were obscured into nothing as they shared peace, as a family, through the music. 

 

* * *

 


	9. New Rules

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scarlet and Rowan are freed from being grounded, but there are new rules.

* * *

 

* * *

 

Two sets of footsteps rushed up the stairs. School was done for the day and there was no question as to who it was. Rowan and Scarlet had distinctly unique footsteps. The discernment of his children's footsteps may have been irrelevant to anyone else, but to Sherlock it was the comforting and constant reminder of their existence in his life. 

 

Rowan entered the flat first with Scarlet trailing closely behind him. Both of them froze, mid conversation, and narrowed their eyes in identical fashion at the scene before them. Their parents were seated and waiting expectantly for them. Sherlock was seated in his chair, hands resting leisurely on the arms, and legs crossed. Molly sat beside him, her back straight, and hands clasped loosely in her lap. 

 

Their eyes fell to the two kitchen chairs conveniently placed in front of their parents. It was reminiscent of the night they got caught returning home after sneaking out to that party. The one they were currently grounded for because of it. 

 

" Is this a parental ambush? Are you going to give us  _The Talk_?" Rowan asked as he dropped his school bag by the door. His wide eyes already displayed true terror at the thought.

 

" You needn't be alarmed by sex. As two healthy growing teenagers, your bodies are undergoing significant changes, hormones are flooding your system, and your libido's may even be-" Sherlock's face was passive and unashamed. He couldn't resist the bait Rowan unknowingly cast. 

 

" Oh no, no no no! I'm not listening," Rowan covered his ears. 

 

" Mum, make him stop," Scarlet pleaded. 

 

They were both blushing profusely, the red tint spreading across their faces.   

 

" How about we save that for another day?" Molly chimed over Scarlet and Rowan's protests. She threw Sherlock a look, who in return gave her one of pure amusement. 

 

" Or save it for never," Rowan expressed. 

 

Scarlet set her school bag next to Rowan's before nodding, " Agreed!" 

 

" Alright, now that that's settled, will you two sit please? We still need to talk to you," Molly motioned to the chairs. 

 

They both sat, but there was a sense of wariness in their actions, as if they were expecting a trap. For a moment everyone was silent. 

 

" Your mother and I have talked it over and we have decided to lift your punishment. You two are no longer grounded. Mycroft has graciously restored your cell phones back to full use and access to your other electronics has been reinstated," Sherlock held their gazes as he spoke. 

 

" But," Molly cut in before they had a chance to celebrate, " we have a few ground rules. You must let your father and I know where you are going, if you are going out. And second, you both have a new curfew. On school nights you need to be home by 8:30 and 10 on weekends."

 

" Mum! A curfew?! What if we need to stay late at school for a project or what if we are delayed on the tube?" Rowan questioned. His frustration wasn't hard to discern. 

 

Scarlet was silent, but it was easy to see that she shared in Rowan's frustration. 

 

Sherlock adjusted his position in his chair before speaking, " We will deal with that when the problem arises, but until then, you will abide by these rules." _  
_

 

The celebratory mood Scarlet and Rowan were in before, dissipated. 

 

" It may feel like it, but we aren't doing this to punish you. This is your chance to earn our trust back and maybe, after a week, we can discuss a different arrangement," Molly smiled at them to reassure her point. 

 

" Do you two understand?" Sherlock leaned forward, trying to catch either of his children's avoiding gazes. 

 

The terms weren't too unreasonable and they were doable. Scarlet looked up first and nodded her reluctant agreement to the terms. Rowan followed shortly after.

 

" Can we go now?" Scarlet asked, realizing there was nothing left to discuss. 

 

" You may," Molly answered. 

 

Scarlet and Rowan stood simultaneously at her go ahead, grabbed their school bags, and all but ran up the stairs to their room. 

 

Once her children were safely out of hearing range, Molly turned to Sherlock and smacked him lightly on the shoulder. 

 

" What was that for?" He was taken aback by her unwarranted action. 

 

" You know exactly what that was for," Molly stood from her chair and headed towards the kitchen, leaving Sherlock alone in the living room. 

 

Sherlock smiled.  _The Talk._ That was something to look forward to. 

 

* * *

 


	10. The Lullaby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Music had been woven into Rowan's memories from the day he was born. When he finds a hidden piece of music written by his father, he learns it and adds his own touch.

 

* * *

 

 

* * *

 

 

Rowan had found it by pure accident. The page fluttered to the floor, landing at his feet, as he pulled one of the old books from the bookshelf. Abandoning his search for something to read, he picked up the page and inspected it. It had probably been sitting between the books for years considering its condition; no fold lines or torn corners, the page beginning to yellow, and the penciled in notes showing signs of fading. There were no words written on the page, save for a date scrawled in the top right hand corner. To anyone else the day was insignificant, but to Rowan it was one of the most important days of his life. The date, written in his father’s unmistakable hand, was the day of his birth.

 

The music was intended for the violin, but the melody notes were easy enough to pick out. Rowan looked over the music, eyed the notes, and tried humming the melody to no avail.

 

Rowan relocated to the piano. He set the music on the ledge and adjusted the bench into a comfortable position before attempting to play. Content, he gently set his fingers on the keys and began to work out the melody. Each note he drew from the piano pulled at his memory bringing forward memories he had long forgotten about. A nostalgic smile spread across his face.

 

It had been years since he had last heard the sweet lullaby. The tune was woven into memories of when he was a child during sleepless nights or sick days or even frustrated and down days. How could he have forgotten? And why had his Father stopped playing it?

 

He played through the lullaby again, re-committing it to memory. The melody was rather plain without the stringed sound of his father’s violin, so after a few more times playing through, he began to add a rough accompaniment line. After an hour, he arched his back for a much needed stretch and massaged his wrists, easing the dull pain from the steady practice. He smiled and mentally patted his back at the final product before tucking it behind one of his piano books for access later.

 

* * *

 

It was a relaxed evening at Baker Street. Dinner had been served and cleaned up, homework for the day was finished, and all pressing cases were solved. These evenings were rare, but always welcomed.

 

Sherlock was absorbed in his book, listening idly as Rowan played around on the piano in the background. He was focused, playing each piece with determination, and his usual finesse.

 

The shuffling of sheet music filled the transitioning silence as Rowan finished one song and prepared for another. There was slight hesitation before he started playing. That moment of pause spoke more than if Rowan had actually said something. He was nervous about sharing the next piece of music.

 

He started slow. The notes unsure and lingering as if he hadn’t played the song as much as the others. It was new to Rowan, but so strikingly familiar.

 

Sherlock lowered his book, realization and recognition hitting him suddenly and pulling his full focus to what Rowan was actually playing. He stood from his chair, placing the book in the newly vacated area, before reaching for his violin resting on the desk.

 

His fingers flexed instinctively as he positioned the bow against the strings. He recalled the music easily, as if years had not passed since he had last played those exact notes.

 

The addition of the violin surprised Rowan. He paused, his fingers hovering over the keys as he turned towards his father, who with a gentle nod urged him to keep playing.

 

The balance between the two instruments changed ever so slightly as Rowan allowed the violin to become the primary voice. His embellished accompaniment complimented the hauntingly drawn out notes drifting from the strings. A final chord marked the end of the unintentional duet.

 

“ I found it in the bookshelf,” Rowan admitted, his voice quiet and hesitant. He remained facing the piano, his knee bouncing nervously, and finger toying with the edges of the sheet music.

 

Sherlock hummed noncommittally as he returned the violin to the desk. He watched Rowan’s shoulders slump and instantly realized his mistake. His lack of comment was the only thing Rowan needed to uncover the insecurities of sharing this particular piece.

 

“ Are you mad? I know it’s your piece and I didn’t mean to add to it, but when I tried it on the piano, it sounded so plain without you playing. It kind of got away from me,” Rowan rambled as he desperately tried to explain himself. He took a deep breath. “ I’m sorry I ruined it and-“

 

“ Rowan, stop. Look at me,” Sherlock gently commanded. Some part of him was hurt that Rowan feared he would have an adverse reaction. His eyes softened as Rowan turned on the bench to meet his gaze. “ Listen, I am not mad, nor will I ever be angry at you for sharing your passion for music. Especially that piece.” Sherlock pointed to the music still on the piano ledge. “ I may have written it, but it is as much yours as it is mine and you’re more than welcome to keep it.”

 

Rowan’s eyes grew wide with surprise. “ Really?”

 

Sherlock nodded. “ The accompaniment was rather elegant. You did well.”

 

A slight blush tinted Rowan’s cheeks. “ Thanks dad." He had never been one to accept compliments easily.

 

Sensing the end of the conversation, Sherlock grabbed his book and retook his seat.

 

Scarlet and Rowan had made it incredibly easy for him to be proud of them. Yes, there were trying times, but they were growing and learning and Sherlock was honoured to be a part of it.

 

Done with the piano for the night, Rowan wordlessly turned back to the piano, tidied his music and stacked them in an organized pile before heading to his room. He had only taken a few steps out the living room door when he heard his father’s deep baritone voice humming the sweet lullaby.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to leave a comment, you wonderful readers!


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